ection till we return."

"Anything you like, only make me of use; and let me have it in an hour's
time, or perhaps I can give you two."

"One will be all-sufficient; but what a wonderful desire to be useful
has seized you all in a minute," replied Emmeline, whose high spirits
appeared on that day utterly uncontrollable, and she ran on unmindful of
her mother's glance. "But if I really do this, I must bid you farewell
at once, or I shall have no time. Think of me, if anything extraordinary
meets your eye, or occurs to you, and treasure it up for my information,
as you know my taste for the marvellous. My letter to Mary shall be
forwarded to you, for I really depend on your seeking her, and telling
her all about us; and now, then, with every wish for your pleasant
journey, I must wish you good-bye."

"Good-bye, dear, happy Emmeline," he said, with earnestness. "May you be
as light-hearted and joyous, and as kind, when we meet again as now; may
I commission you with my warmest remembrances and kind adieus to your
cousin, whom I am sorry I have not chanced to see this morning?"

"They shall be duly delivered," answered Emmeline, and kissing her hand
gaily in adieu, she tripped lightly out of the room, and St. Eval
instantly turned towards Mrs. Hamilton.

"In this intention of leaving England for a few months, or perhaps a
year," he said, striving for calmness, but speaking in a tone of
sadness, "you will at once perceive that my cherished hopes for the
future are blighted. I will not linger on the subject, for I cannot yet
bear disappointment such as this with composure. Were I of different
mould, I might, spite of coldness and pride, continue my addresses; and
were you as other parents are, Caroline--Miss Hamilton might still be
mine; a fashionable marriage it would still be, but, thank God, such
will not be; even to bestow your child on one you might value more than
me, you would not trample on her affections, you would not consent that
she should be an unwilling bride, and I--oh! I could not--could not wed
with one who loved me not. My dream of happiness has ended--been
painfully dispelled; the blow was unexpected, and has found me
unprepared. I leave England, lest my ungoverned feelings should lead me
wrong. Mrs. Hamilton," he continued, more vehemently, "you understand my
peculiar feelings, and can well guess the tortures I am now enduring.
You know why I am reserved, because I dread the outbreak of emotion even
i